


The Saviour

by nettlesmoothie



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure Fic, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Dark Doctor (Doctor Who), F/M, Family Bonding, Found Family, Gore, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Psychological Torture, Regeneration, Torture, Violence, dark!Doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nettlesmoothie/pseuds/nettlesmoothie
Summary: The Doctor, Amy, and Rory end up on a barbaric planet where contestants have to fight to the death to survive. Will the gang be able to survive and get home safely?
Relationships: Amy Pond/Rory Williams
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. An Unexpected Visitor

Amy sat in her living room, laptop in her lap as she surfed the web. Legs up on the coffee table, she browsed the internet while her husband, Rory, sat across from her, reading a book whilst sipping a mug of tea. How very British.

And _booooring._

She groaned, shoving her laptop off of her and turning to bury her face into the sofa pillow.

“Rory, I’m booored,” she groaned to her husband, voice muffled by the couch cushion.

Rory sighed, sipping his mug of tea. “I know, dear.”

She flipped over, sending a cascade of her gorgeous red hair flying through the air. The back of her head now on the pillow, she placed an arm on her forehead, palm outstretched in a dramatic display of supreme boredom.

She let out a long, heartfelt sigh. If only the Doctor were here to break her free of her weariness. It had been weeks since he had last visited, and she missed him dearly.

_** VWORP. VWORP. VWORP. ** _

She sat up instantly, all feelings of humdrum evaporating. She turned to her husband. “D’ya hear that?”

“How could I not?” Rory said, putting his book down, unable to hide the smile on his face as he readied himself for what he knew was about to come.

Amy got up and ran to the source of the wheezing, groaning sound they had come to love. In the kitchen, a blue telephone box had begun to materialize, sending any papers and bills flying through the air.

She grinned, watching the ebb and flow of the TARDIS materialization sequence. Soon enough, the TARDIS was fully materialized, and with a creak of the door, her favorite Raggedy Doctor leaned his head outside the box, a mischievous grin as big as hers on his boyish young face.

“Hello, Ponds!”

Amy jumped in the air, smiling broadly. “Doctor!” She leapt over to him, burying her face in his shoulder as she gave him a bear hug.

“Wa-hey! Amy! You’re very huggy today.” The Doctor said, wrapping his arms around her. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Jus’ missed you, is all,” Amy said, voice muffled in his tweed jacket.

The Doctor winced, removing himself from her. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, scratching the back of his head with his hand. “Been busy.”

“Bollocks to that,” Amy pouted.

The Doctor grinned. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Ah, Rory!”

Rory stood near the entrance to the kitchen, trying his best to not draw attention to himself.

“Doctor!” Rory greeted, offering the Doctor a hand, which the Time Lord swiftly ignored in favour of a hug, complete with several hearty pats on the back.

“Rory, my good man! It’s great to see you!

“L-Likewise,” Rory grunted, struggling to breathe under the Time Lord’s surprising strength.

“So,” Amy began, “What brings you here?”

The Doctor let go of Rory (much to his relief) and turned back towards Amy. “Just missing my favourite humans, is all,” he said, shrugging. “And...” he drawled, eyes twinkling, “I was in the market for an adventure.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Amy said, grinning.

“Alrighty!” The Doctor replied. “And with that...” he said, taking a hand of each Pond, “Let’s go!”

As they entered the TARDIS, Amy was reminded of how breathtaking the ship was. Gorgeous, golden arching walls seemed to swirl inside the ship, leading up a staircase to the control panel. It was filled with knobs and knockers that Amelia hadn’t the slightest idea of what they did, but the Doctor seemed to understand as he pushed and pulled away at the dozens of different buttons and switches.

“Ah, here we go!” He suddenly exclaimed, pressing a button which brought up a hologram of some far away galaxy. “Either of you fancy a particular time and place?”

Amy looked to Rory, Rory only shrugging in response. “You can pick, hon,” he said, just happy to see his wife so excited.

She grinned, focusing her attention on the hologram. “Hmm... how about this one?” She picked one at random, a green and red planet popping up on the hologram.

“Ah, Belatrov V! An excellent choice!” The Doctor returned to steering up the TARDIS, the familiar groaning and wheezing they had come to love starting up.

“Belatrov V is a lovely planet! Great people, great food, and real fans of parties! ‘Course, you’ll have to get used to their appearance, though. They do happen to look a hell of a lot like giant spiders.”

Rory, who had mostly been tuning out of the Doctor’s rambling, suddenly snapped to attention. “Giant spiders?!”

“Friendly giant spiders!” The Doctor replied. “Plus they’re vegetarian! These boys love their greens! Or reds, in their case, since all their plants don’t have any chlorophyll. Hah, you should’ve seen their faces when I brought them a stalk of celery- Oh, we’re here!”

He ran to the doors, holding his hand out. “Ready to go, Ponds?”

Amy smiled, taking the Doctor and Rory’s hands, despite the latter’s complaint about giant alien spiders. “Always.”

And with that, the Doctor opened the wooden doors with a creak.

They stepped out, Amy beaming. Oh, how she missed this! The feeling of alien ground beneathher feet, the smell of alien air, and the sight of... crossed spears?

Amy peered over the Doctor’s shoulder, trying to take in what she was seeing. Two giant, spider-like creatures were holding golden spears. Easily eight feet tall, they almost reminded her of centaurs, if you replaced the horse part with tarantula, not to mention the huge spider face. 

Amy took a step back, only to find her heel suddenly engulfed in a wet, sticky substance. She looked down, to find her left foot being swallowed up by some kind of gelatin left on an ornate looking plate. An angry alien staring across from her. She looked around, noticing many more strange objects on plates and more spider-people, all staring at her.

“Halt, creatures! What right do you have, interrupting our royal dinner!”

Oh shit. The TARDIS crew had just landed on top of a huge feast, and the aliens did not seem happy with weird creatures stepping all over their food.

“Oh, um...” The Doctor took a look around, stepping on more food. “This isn’t the central plaza,” he stated.

One of the guards snarled. “Indeed. King X’aa-shil, what should we do with the intruders?”

The Doctor paled. “King X’aa-shil, as in the Great Torturer X’aa-shil?”

The king ignored him. “Send then into the Colosseum,” he said with a wave of a three-fingered hand.

As they were hauled off, the Doctor muttered, “Well gang. We’re on the right planet, but it seems we’ve arrived 500 years too early.”


	2. The Beginning of the End

So there they were. Trapped in a dingy, dark, metallic prison cell (more of a cage, really) Beyond the bars she could see more cells, all holding various aliens. The one immediately across from them held two, sort of tentacle-y looking things, each with several pairs of eyes. One was huddled in the corner of its cell, seemingly asleep, while the other was standing, looking at them curiously. Next to them was three humanoids, completely covered in coarse black hair. Similar to the tentacled beings, there was one in the corner, while the others seemed to be trying to comfort him. As far as Amy could see, they were the only humans (and Time Lord) in the entire royal prison. The more she thought about it, the more angry she got about a certain Time Lord’s abysmal timing.

She huffed. “You _really_ had to land 500 years too early, didn’t you?”

“Oi!” The Doctor frowned. “It just so happens I’m currently working on a brilliant escape plan-“ he reached into his jacket pocket reflexively, only to come out empty-handed. “Oh, right...” he muttered. The spider-aliens had frisked them, taking the Doctor’s coveted sonic screwdriver.

“Already missing it, huh?” Amy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, I’ve done more with less,” The Doctor said. “Have I told you about the time I saved the universe with half a slinky and a broken yo-yo?”

“Not helping our current situation,” Rory replied from the opposite corner of the cell.

“Not now Rory, thinking of a brilliant plan!” The Doctor responded. Rory just snorted in response.

Amy sighed. Her boys were always like this. Disagreeing, a spar with words here and there. She supposed their personalities could be considered as... complete opposites, if she was being frank. Though they had improved over the years, ( _the power of three_ and all that) Rory and the Doctor would get into occasional debates.

Amy was interrupted from her thoughts by a sudden screeching, creaking sound, like a heavy, old door being quickly opened, followed by an animalistic howl. She turned to the front of the cage and pressed her face to the corner bar, trying to get a view of the prison door they had come through from her position in the cell.

From what Amy could see, two spider-aliens dressed in leather and metal armor had just cranked open the prison door and were quickly walking (crawling?) down the aisle of cages. Of course, they stopped right in front of their cell.

Amy shuffled back to the rear of the cage as the right spider put his hand up to the wall, touching a control pad and placing a three-fingered hand over it. She could hear a long beep as it scanned his handprint, and then a final, lower pitched beep as the bars of the cage retracted into the floor.

“Give us your Anointed for the Processing,” growled the left spider.

Before Amy could ask what that meant, the Doctor clapped his hands.

“Anointed! Ah, yes, I believe that’s me.”

The two spider-aliens looked between each other before taking the Doctor by each arm and carrying him away.

“Wh- _Doctor_!” Amy started, but before she could even get a sentence out, the Doctor was on the other side of the cage as the bars came back up, separating them. With not even another word, the aliens began to drag the Time Lord away.

“Doctor!” Rory clung to the bars. “Where are they taking you?!”

“Don’t worry Ponds, I’ll be right back! Just a quick ol’ processing ritual, should take no time at all!” The Doctor called back behind his shoulder as the aliens dragged him away, his voice getting fainter and fainter, until they heard the resounding slam of the prison door.

It was less than a minute later that the screams began.

*****

As the bronze door to the main prison block closed, the Doctor began to worry.

A black, slimy worry niggling at the back of his mind, it was. It writhed and twitched between the folds of his brain, and whispered six words:

“ _You can’t get out of this_.”

The Doctor forced away the sludge. No time to think of that! There’s only time for scheming. Scheming and plotting. It always served him well in the old days. Why wouldn’t it save him now?

The two Belatrovian prison guards jostled him out of his thoughts, each one with an arm hooked around his own. He knew better than to try to escape as the Belatrovian species were known for their urticating hairs on their abdomens that, when flicked, could instantly paralyze anyone who is unlucky enough to anger one. Not to mention the assortment of deadly weapons each one of the guards had on their person.

With his thoughts spiraling, the Doctor could only observe as he was lead down a dark, cold corridor. Quite a while down, he could see a light blinking at the end of the tunnel.

“So, uh, lads,” the Doctor began, “would you believe me if I said this was one big misunderstanding?”

The guards gave him no response, just kept on walking towards the end of the tunnel.

“So much for conversation,” The Doctor muttered under his breath.

With that thought, the Doctor, was thrusted forward into a blinding light. They had reached the end of the corridor.

As his eyes adjusted to the blinding light, he saw before him another Belatrovian, this one with his back towards him, facing a table covered in dozens of various metal tools. This Belatrovian was a bit more bluish than the others, and was clad in dark black leather. He was also quite a bit bigger than the two guards that brought him in.

With their arrival, the blue Belatrovian turned, mandibles clicking in anticipation.

“So you’ve brought the next Anointed?” Purred Blue.

The alien to the Doctor’s right responded with a flick of his pedipalps. “Yes, Lord Processor.” With that, Blue pressed his hand to the table, a beep ringing out as a bronze metal table with straps rose out of a panel on the floor.

The Doctor gulped. He knew all about the Anointed and the Processing.

The two guards lifted the hapless Time Lord up, and placed him on the table. The cold metal made his skin turn to gooseflesh as he made contact. Ignoring his discomfort, the guards strapped in each of the doctor’s limbs as Blue prepared his tools.

Once they found the Doctor was satisfactorily bound, they quickly exited the room, the door sliding shut behind them.

With them gone, the Doctor turned to the “Lord Processor.”

“So, you’re called ‘Lord Processor,’ is that right?” the Doctor chatted, “Blimey, you’d think they’d think of better titles. Personally, I’d go with Doctor - ow!”

Blue, pointedly ignoring the Doctor’s ramblings, had just stabbed him with a syringe in his wrist, filled to the brim with a black, shimmering liquid.

The Doctor knew exactly what it was.

He could only watch as the Lord Processor slowly injected it into his bloodstream. The Doctor could feel every drop of the serum enter his blood, making his veins feel like they were on fire and frozen at the same time. He grimaced in pain, arching his back but Blue took no notice.

Almost immediately, the Doctor could feel the serum’s effects. His vision blurred. His extremities felt numb. He closed his eyes- they were so heavy all of a sudden. The Time Lord felt Blue’s presence above him, most likely observing his reactions to the dose, but the Doctor felt no urge to open his eyes. Partially because of the drug, and partially because of what he knew would come next.

Blue, seemingly satisfied with his reaction, turned to grab a helmet-like device. The Processor.

The Doctor opened his eyes as the cold metal of the Processor came into contact with his scalp, wincing as it was tightened.

“So, Lord Processor, is it?” The Doctor said, trying to fill the silence.

Blue clicked his mandibles in response.

“I'm not supposed to talk with prisoners,” Blue didn’t seem to have the ‘don’t-engage-with-the-prisoners’ training the two guards had.

The Doctor grinned numbly, unable to feel his face. “Would you like to know all the intricacies of the universe?”

Apparently, that didn’t appeal to Blue, as he quickly went back to adjusting the Processor.

“Sorry, but I've no time for chit-chat,” Blue clicked.

“Aw, come on, Blue! We could have sooo much fun together,” The Doctor slurred.

Blue ignored him, pressing and tapping buttons on a control panel that was too blurry for the Doctor to read.

“We had such a nice repertoire going!” The Doctor called, oblivious of how loud his voice was in the tiny room. He tried to bring his hands to his face, but found them restrained. Why was he in straps again?

Blue, continuing to ignore him, finally finished the adjustments for the Processor, and slammed his clawed hand down on a large, red button.

The Doctor screamed.

It was all he could do, the only possible reaction he could have to this sheer amount of pain. It felt like his bones were on fire, his skin submerged in acid, his flesh being eviscerated.

He screamed and screamed and screamed, till he couldn’t anymore.

*****

It felt like the Doctor’s screams would never end.

When they first began, Amy banged her hands against the bars of the cage and screamed every obscenity she knew at any passing guards, but every single one ignored her. Even the other prisoners, huddled in their corners, ignored her.

Eventually, Amy collapsed into her husband’s arms, a sobbing mess, full of fear and worry for the Doctor.

“What are they doing to him?!” Amy cried, Rory cradling her.

Rory’s face was set in a grim line. “He’ll be fine. He’s always got a plan.”

Amy just kept holding Rory.

Eventually the screams stopped, Amy at first hopeful the Doctor would be returned, then terrified he was dead.

Hours later, she got her answer.

Two guards dragged the limp Doctor back to their cell, and unceremoniously threw the Doctor back into their cell.

“Doctor! Doctor!” Amy cried. He wasn’t moving.

Rory got to him first flipping him over.

He was so pale, he looked like a ghost. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, but he was still breathing, though shallow.

He managed a weak smile. “Hello, Ponds.”

“Doctor!” Amy cried again, so thankful he was alive. “Wh-what happened to you? What did they do?”

The Doctor grimaced. “Oh, don’t worry about that, Amelia.” He winced as he pushed himself up, resting himself on his elbows.

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry?!’ We thought they bloody killed you!” Amy cried.

“Oh, _that_ ,” The Doctor said, shrugging loosely. “Just some Processing. Boring, really.”

“Doctor,” Rory interjected, nurse training taking over. “Do you have any wounds? Broken bones?”

The Doctor thought for a minute, then shook his head.

“Well, I’m going to give you a look-over anyways,” Rory said. The Doctor knew better than to argue.

With the Doctor’s consent, Rory began his observation. While he looked sick, like he had the flu, he didn’t seem to have any external wounds,other than what looked like a small wound on his wrist. Worryingly, there seemed to be some type of black residue around the wound.

“Doctor,” Rory said with a worried tone. “What’s this?” He pointed to the small hole on his wrist.

The Doctor jerked his arm away. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “They just... injected me with some liquid,” he mumbled.

“They did what?!” Rory and Amy said at the same time.

The Doctor held up his hands, wincing. “Please keep your voices down, I’ve a terrible headache. But yes, it’s all part of the ‘Processing.’”

“What the hell is a Processing?” Amy questioned.

“Well, it’s all part of Belatrovian history and tradition, which goes thousands of years back,” The Doctor croaked, voice horse, “but all you need to know is that whenever a person commits a capital crime on this planet, they’re thrown in here, and, well, tortured,” the Doctor shifted uncomfortably.

“But when there’s a group of prisoners, they grant a small mercy of letting only one member be tortured, the ‘Anointed’” he supplied. “In this case, me.”

Amy couldn’t take it. She punched the Doctor in the shoulder.

“God damn it! Why couldn’t you let one of us bloody be their ‘sacrifice’ or whatever!”

The Time Lord eyed Amy. “Do you really think I’d let one of you two go through this?” He shifted into a sitting position, wincing. “Besides, I’ve been through worse.”

“Like hell you have,” Amy said, trying not to cry. Rory just looked at the Doctor gratefully.

The Doctor sighed. “Well, Ponds, it looks like we have the rest of the night to ourselves, which is roughly nine hours on Belatrov.”

“Sure wish we had some beds to rest on,” Amy muttered.

As soon as Amy uttered those words, three metal sheets slid out of the wall. Beds, apparently.

“Oh,” Amy said, surprised.

The Doctor, sensing her question, responded. “Belatrovian technology. It constantly scans your body, sensing when you need rest or whatnot.”

“Well, let’s get you into bed,” Rory said, moving to grab the Doctor’s shoulders. Amy wordlessly followed suit grabbing the Time Lord’s ankle’s.

With a groan from the Doctor, they successfully managed to get him into the cold sheet of metal. “Thank you,” the Doctor murmured, still wincing in pain.

“No need for that,” Rory said. “Just get some rest.”

“Yeah, and if you die in your sleep I’ll kill you,” Amy supplied, trying to lighten the mood. The Doctor cracked a small smile. “No promises,” he said weakly.

As the Doctor drifted off to sleep, Amy and Rory got into their adjacent beds, Amy cringing as the cold metal touched the exposed parts of her body. Rory, on the sheet below her, reached a hand up for her to hold which she gratefully took.

“I’m so worried about him,” she whispered, glancing over at the Doctor’s form in the dim light. He was curled up in a foetal position, back to her.

“I’m sure he’s got a plan,” Rory whispered back, squeezing her had affectionately.

She sighed. Sure would be nice if he could tell us, she thought, but didn’t voice it out loud.

Sensing her frustration and worry, Rory squeezed her hand again. “Just try to get some sleep,” he murmured softly.

_ We’ll get out of this. _

That was Amy’s last thought as she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter! Poor Doc. Unfortunately things aren’t gonna get better for him, but at least he’s got the Ponds to comfort him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This is my second fic, please leave a comment and kudo if you enjoyed!


End file.
